


A Prelude to Decline

by walnutwhale



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Artsy Smut, Drabble, F/M, Killing praetorian guards is a good aphrodisiac, Mentions of Blood, One Shot, Reylo - Freeform, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers, The darkside is horny, The lightsaber explodes but so does Ben, Throne Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walnutwhale/pseuds/walnutwhale
Summary: "Let's bone on a pile of Praetorian Guards" or: How the Throne Room scene should have REALLY gone down.





	A Prelude to Decline

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessing over the Throne Room scene since I saw TLJ (like seriously, it's like watching actual porn), so I had to get this quick smutty drabble out of my brain before I completely lost my marbles.

There is always beauty in the breakdown.

 

A flash, blinding. A tremendous, splitting frequency, cacophonous within the artificial cavern. And the song of light and dark, swirling around one another like oil and water, whispering long forgotten secrets and promising powerful forevers, language and thought and emotion all joining together to form a suspended moment in time, a puncture wound within the force that blossomed with flowers made of sparkling arrays and then collapsed back upon itself: begin and end, begin and end, begin and end.

 

The air, raw with the smell of burnt copper, sang in a brilliant, frenzied cacophony of power and submission:  _Nwûl tash._ _Dzwol shâsotkun._ Like fine wine blooming on the tongue, senses alight, everything burning, burning, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

 

Two consciousnesses awoke with a start, adrift on an island of fire and brimstone, the stars raining down above them.

The taste of terror is a unique one, a bitter pill, and she gagged on it, wrenching herself upon elbows stained with crimson. A lithe body wracked with convulsions, a curtain of chocolate tresses shielding her in, a scream blooming in her throat. The air touched every inch of her body with searching fingers, wafted inside of her like smoke, and she felt entirely too full and absolutely bereft simultaneously.  _Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk._ The air keened at her, licking along the inside of her skull, igniting her flesh with sensation and shocks, and her body spasmed as an inhuman howl escaped from the deepest pits of her despair.

 

But then he was there, grasping to her like a lifeline, haloed by destruction and promise and darkness. Amidst fallen enemies and fire rain, Dark and Light collided with violence and beauty.   
  
"I can feel it too." He gasped into her ear, arms encircling her body like a prison, like freedom. Frantic brown eyes tinged with yellow met his, and she crashed into him without hesitation. 

 

She tasted like blood and flowers, and he wanted to drink her up, to consume her, to be her, to make her his, to possess, to love, to -  _MORE._ "Rey." He purred into her lips, and somehow her name had ten syllables and the power of the ancients. 

 

They were tangled up, limbs everywhere, the force sighing along every path their fingers took, the darkness rising up to meet the light: harmony. "What is happening to us, Ben?" Rey whined, but her voice was dripping with want and power. She was the most intoxicating thing that he had ever experienced.  
  
"The Force is happening.  _We_  are happening." He bit into the junction of her shoulder and neck and tasted the bloom of blood upon his tongue and she arched into him, dry sobs wracking her body as she convulsed in pleasure.   
  
The air was thick and circled them like a stalking predator, pushing them together:  _Not close enough. More, MORE, consume, MORE._

Searching and desperate fingers began to tear at mortal casings, rending fabric from seam in a fervor of need. And then it was flesh on flesh and the force was chanting around them, siren song beating along the lines of their minds:  _Nwûl tash._ _Dzwol shâsotkun._

Large, ungloved hands found supple skin and he traced ancient Sith geometry around her nipples, marveling at the way that goosebumps bloomed in his touch. The atmosphere embracing them sighed along with her moans, and Ben felt more powerful than he ever had wielding a lightsaber.

 

Here, in this moment, on a bed of destruction and blood,  _she_  was his weapon, his undoing, his salvation, his redemption. Her Sith kissed eyes opened to bear into him and he was falling into her all over again. 

 

"Ben, Ben." Her cries stabbed into his abdomen and he sheathed himself in her as she clawed wildly at his back. Her hands came away bloody, his mouth was full of molten crimson, and together they leapt and knew there was no coming back.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a woman of simple motivators: comments keep me writing.
> 
> The Sith language is from the Code of the Sith and translates as follows:  
> Nwûl tash = Peace is a lie.  
> Dzwol shâsotkun = There is only Passion.  
> Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk = Through passion I gain strength.


End file.
